“Oh. Okay. Text me when you get back to the dorms?” I know no one’s prowling the campus streets at this hour, but still.
“Yup.”
I nod. “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Gerard’s faint voice carries as I find my way across the field, to the lab parking lot until it disappears.
Chapter Six
Cameron
I sleep like shit, because I can’t stop thinking about what went down in the lab. I’m too nice to people. That’s the issue. I see someone who needs help, and I want to help them anyway I can. It’s funny because a lot of people would say I’m an asshole for the way I treat guys—fucking them and never calling them again, but I make that as clear as I can before we get into things. Still, being someone who sleeps around typically means you’re a jerk. I’m not. Seriously, I’m not. Which is why I had no issue helping Carter with his drawing stuff, especially since there was an exchange and my car was being fixed in return.
We sat down Wednesday afternoon and I went over some stuff with him to help him draw more realistically, sort of the wayI helped Austen. Carter drew a ton of things and he was doing great, but then he said his issue was drawing live models and maybe it was because they were naked and he couldn’t focus.
I get that. I’ve heard it over the years and even felt the same when I first took the class. Him looking at my car didn’t seem like a fair trade for one quick study session, so I offered to do another.
Technically, I should not have been up in the drawing room naked for him to draw, but I knew there wouldn’t be anyone around to complain. The only time a model should be nude is during the scheduled times, with other people around for safety, but I wanted to help the guy out.
Only it seems our idea of helping him out were two very different things. Apparently, he took the entire thing as me wanting to hook up with him, when not even for a second did that cross my mind. I truly wanted to help the guy learn to draw better and ease his anxiety over drawing a naked person. Seems he was trying to get a gay hook-up under his belt, if the comment he spewed at me as he walked out was any indication.
“If you tell anyone I tried touching your dick, you’ll be done at this school.”
Cool. Totally what I needed in my last year.
I mean, I’m not sure how much weight his words have. Not that mine has a ton, but I haven’t had any issues in this school since being here and I’m almost done with my degree. But if he has a daddy in high places, it could screw me. I tried to let him down as gently as possible, but all he did was get furious. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with an enraged “straight” guy who was pissed because I turned them down for their first gay experience. I’m not a fucking carnival ride, for fuck’s sake. I’m a human, and it’s really fucking sad that people act like this.
Though I’d love nothing more than to spend my entire day in bed, hiding away from the world so I can sit in my bad mood, Ipeel myself out of the bed, hop in the shower, then get ready for class. The day drags by, I hardly notice what goes on in class. I get a shit ton of homework to do over the weekend, which is just fucking peachy. Homework is so stupid, like why am I going to class if you’re just making me do stuff at home? I should have taken online classes.
By the time the drawing class rolls around and it’s time for me to model, I’m exhausted. I prefer when they have me lay down on a lounge, but today I’m propped on a stool. My back is burning, my neck stiff, and my ass is going numb.
When class is done, everyone thanks me and I head to the back room to get dressed. The football game should still be going on. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re finishing up halftime right now, so if I hurry I can catch the last quarter of the game.
I’m hurrying out the door when someone calls my name. I grit my teeth and slowly turn, worried I’m going to see Carter or some other asshole I don’t want anything to do with.
But this is a new guy. Just what I need—another asshole.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks, hurrying over to me.
“Uh, I was hoping to catch the last of the football game.”
“I’m heading that way too, actually. Can I walk with you?”
“Sure,” I say carefully, tugging my backpack straps tighter as he hoists his portfolio case higher on his shoulder. Don’t miss carrying those big things around.
“So, I don’t want this to sound weird or anything, but have you considered modeling?” he asks.
“Isn’t that what I just did?”
He laughs as we head down the stairs and toward the doors that lead to the parking lot.
“I mean real modeling. Like for magazines, billboards, that sort of thing.”
I chuckle. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have time for it? There’s no way I can fight people for jobs when I’m in school full time and dealing with life.”
